


Unexpected

by idleflower



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexuality, F/F, Misses Clause Challenge, Yuletide Treat, canon-typical mentions of things like rape and death in childbirth, fans of Lessa/F'lar might want to skip this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 05:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17094383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idleflower/pseuds/idleflower
Summary: A Hatching is always a momentous occasion, one that changes forever the lives of the participants. And sometimes, of all Pern.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tonepoem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonepoem/gifts).



Ten female candidates had stood on the hot sands the day Ramoth hatched. Lessa, of course, had become the new queen's bondmate. Jalene died when her psi-boosted panic fired the hatchling's confusion into rage, driving Ramoth to destroy the source of the irritation. At least her end was quick; the snapped neck killed her in an instant. Andret was both more and less lucky, having been badly raked by Ramoth's claws. A dragon was designed to tear apart much tougher prey than a teenage girl, but a newborn's claws were not so sharp, and Ramoth's intent had only been to swat her aside. Andret's wounds were stitched up by the Weyr healers, but her body would be scarred for life. Fearing that a return to her hold meant that she would be relegated to the status of drudge, she opted to stay in the Weyr despite her fear of dragons and her especial loathing for Ramoth. She buried herself in the tasks of the Lower Caverns, and never spoke to Lessa.

Most of the others had begged to be sent home once the Hatching was complete, and their tears had merited swift agreement. Some chose to stay with the handsome dragonmen who had whisked them away from their unexciting lives in Hold and Craft. 

And then, there was Kylara, who took to Weyr life like a fish to frenzied spawning waters.

Weyr life was different. Lessa understood that. Still, she couldn't help but feel vaguely appalled at the carefree way that Kylara bounced from bed to bed, occasionally encouraging riders to compete for her favors - or even to share them! The blonde had neither shame nor fear, a state that Lessa could not understand at all. For most of her life, Lessa had been desperate to escape notice, knowing how quickly in Fax's world a man's attentions could lead to rape and murder. The couplings she had occasionally glimpsed during her drudge days filled her with revulsion, not desire. It was only weak, empty-headed fools, in her opinion, who turned their efforts to attracting male protectors. And little good those 'protectors' would do them, if a stronger man chose to challenge, or if the natural outcome of all that rutting left them split and bleeding like Lady Gemma, dead in childbirth! Weyr customs and draconic realities forced Lessa to accept F'lar as a bedmate, but she could not imagine becoming the sort of lightskirt that Kylara seemed to be.

In a different world, Lessa and Kylara might have been old friends, even foster-sisters. Both were born the daughters of Lord Holders, the upper echelons of society. They might have shared a table at a Gather, competed for the same suitors. Neither would ever marry, now.

Lessa imagined that Kylara must have been glad to see the back of her betrothed, the engagement shattered when she was whisked away on Search. She certainly showed no sign of mourning for that lost relationship. Even pregnancy had not slowed down her antics, only added a ripe roundness to her golden beauty (so different, Lessa admitted to herself, from her own stick-and-bones figure). She had survived childbirth without complication and passed off her son Tekil for fostering without complaint. Most likely the only reason she wasn't out playing the harlot right now was that Lessa had requested her be present for lessons and to spend time with the eggs of Ramoth's clutch.

In Lessa's presence, Kylara was demure and polite, perfectly dressed, attentive to every suggestion. She drank up knowledge about dragons and Impression with complete concentration, but offered little about herself other than a serene smile and eyes forever watching. 

Lessa couldn't stand her.

Lessa pitied her. 

Lessa found her horribly, grotesquely fascinating.

What did Kylara **want**? The woman had the morals of a green dragon, but too much pride and determination to settle so low even if women were allowed to become green riders. Surely it was envy that led her to stare at Lessa with such eyes. Was it F'lar she wanted? The status of Weyrwoman? The status of being the only queen rider on Pern? Some of those things she might find easier than others.

At least Ramoth liked her, which Lessa took as a sign that Kylara was, indeed, meant to claim the clutch's one golden egg. Lessa had no experience to draw on when it came to draconic mother-daughter relationships, and barely remembered her own mother, but it seemed logical that Ramoth should approve of her daughter's bondmate. 

Kylara would Impress the gold, hopefully with far less drama and danger than there had been at Ramoth's hatching. And then she would be removed to the dust of Fort Weyr, to create her own queendom there. 

Lessa smirked to herself. Kylara might find the responsibilities less to her liking than the status. It was hard to imagine that woman settling down to be a good little queen, faithful and true to her Weyrleader, managing the kitchens in the background, staying out of sight. Of course, Pern didn't need a Weyrwoman who was **weak** , either. Kylara would benefit from Lessa's example. And if her proclivities led to frequent mating and a rapid rise in dragon population, that could only be a good thing. Lessa's plans would proceed, and when Thread returned, her dragons would be ready to meet it.

\---

The day of the Hatching dawned clear and still-cold, though the sands themselves were hot enough to scald unwary feet. Sixty-three young men and four women stood as candidates for Ramoth's forty-one eggs. Sure as they were of Kylara, it would be unseemly to provide no choice at all for the newborn queen. 

The tiers of the great Hatching Cavern were filled with spectators. After Lytol's warnings of discontent among the holdfolk, F'lar had invited the fathers of the non-weyrbred candidates to attend the Hatching and witness the joyful successes of their offspring. Only the fathers, as it did not occur to F'lar that a Holder Lady's opinion would matter for any purpose. Lessa had enough on her shoulders carefully managing the Impression bonds and steering the young away from dangerous reactions; she did not have time to work on adjusting F'lar's mind about the guests. Besides, most of those gently-bred ladies would likely be too frightened to attend. If this hatching went well, if the Weyr's position in society continued to approve, then whole families might be welcomed in the stands.

Everything **must** go smoothly!

Lessa had spent hours digging through the old Records. The Benden riders had accepted death and maiming as a normal cost of Impression, but it was clear that such a thing had **not** been normal in the past. It was a mistake born of tradition gone wrong, not a certainty. Under her direction, all the candidates had become familiar with the eggs. If anyone, particularly someone with empathic gifts, showed any sign of panic, they would be sent away immediately before they could affect the eggs. There need never be another Jalene, now that Lessa was in charge.

A tiny laugh forced its way up her small frame, causing F'lar beside her to look at Lessa in confusion. She waved him away, not wanting to explain. 

She was in charge, wasn't she? Her mind controlled the fate of the world! How about that, for a girl who only a few Turns ago had been a half-starved drudge regularly beaten for shirking her duties? Now every dragon, every Hold, moved at her command. There were hiccups at times, but if she was prepared, she had only to set her mind against someone and, more often than not, they fell into line. And this Hatching - 

_It is time._

Clamping down on her mirth, Lessa focused her attention on the rocking, shattering eggs. One by one, the clumsy hatchlings burst from their shells and looked about themselves, scanning the faces around them as if pre-Impressed, and then stumbling towards the person whose mind would be forever twined with theirs.

And Kylara, her golden hair glimmering in the light, knelt in the sand, her arms around the neck of the large bronze hatchling that had chosen her. "His name is Pruveth!"


	2. Chapter 2

As Lessa's laughter began to move from mocking to hysterical, F'lar grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her roughly. "Quiet yourself!" he hissed. "This is bad enough! What will we tell people, when in all tradition - "

"Tradition!" Lessa gasped for breath. "Your tradition said queens couldn't fly! **Obviously** queens can fly! And **obviously** women can Impress male dragons. Your greens take male riders all the time!" She pushed his hands away, her small chest heaving. "You've just never had enough women on the grounds for it to matter."

"But a woman fighting!"

"It's the dragon that fights thread, not the rider, isn't it?" Lessa shot back. "She's daring enough." 

"Bold," F'lar admitted. "But -"

"The dragon chooses," Lessa cut him off, barely hiding her excitement. How many other things would these dragonmen prove to be wrong about? How many women, suitable riders, had been passed over for Turns because Nemorth laid no gold egg? This wasn't the time to make a point of it, not with so few dragons, not when they needed every candidate ready to take on responsibility as soon as possible. But someday, if they survived Thread, if they had enough eggs... She redirected F'lar's attention down to the sands. "Look! The queen has Impressed." A girl with reddish-brown hair and a round face, one who'd come from the Lower Caverns to stand as a candidate and whose name Lessa could never quite remember, had overturned the odds and was now announcing her partnership with Aideth.

F'lar let out a breath. "There's no changing it. Well then." He shook his head. "Well, most of them have never seen a Hatching before anyway. We'll just tell them it's rare, but not unexpected." Relaxing now, he laughed. "I pity the rider of any green that Pruveth catches!"

Lessa clenched her fists, nails scraping against her still-strong palms. Pity them, would he? He'd never shown any pity for **her** , the virgin girl snatched from her Hold and thrown to a pack of bronzeriders, stripped and slapped into submission by the man whose dragon had claimed her queen. He'd insisted that she continue to share his bed, though after a few sessions where she lay stiff and unresponsive, waiting for him to finish, he mostly took his pleasures elsewhere. Never once had he apologised for the necessity of their mating flight. But he pitied a green rider?

_I love you,_ Ramoth said.

With just that brush of warmth, Lessa's resentment melted. _I know._ And it wasn't right for her to think such thoughts about F'lar with their dragons near. Their union was too fragile. Their common cause, their **working relationship** was more important than her troubled emotions. They needed to present a united front against a world that did not believe in Thread.

_There are others,_ Ramoth said cryptically.

Others who knew the truth? Hidden allies? 

F'lar brushed his lips against Lessa's, disrupting her thoughts. "I must arrange the transport of our guests back to their homes. Can you go down and speak with our new weyrlings? Congratulate the lucky, steer them in the right direction?"

"Of course." The Weyrlingmaster would have them in hand, but it would be good for morale for the Weyrwoman to acknowledge the new riders, especially after the effort she had put into directing them.

\---

As the gathered watchers went their ways, Lessa followed the trail of still-awkward dragonets towards the weyrling barracks. Some of the new riders were so enraptured by their new bondmates that they barely noticed her presence. Others were emotionally overwhelmed to the point of tears and eager to press her hand and promise her undying loyalty before stuffing more meat into their hatchlings.

The new queen's rider - Kanelli! that was her name - was not among the effusive ones. She met Lessa's gaze with a stubborn lift of her chin. "Aideth chose me and there's nothing you can do about it."

"Good," Lessa said, surprising the other girl slightly. "We need gold riders who are stubborn enough to fight for their rights."

Kanelli's face immediately turned an alarming shade of pink. "I thought you'd be - I'm just a kitchen girl, not highborn..."

"Any dragonrider is highborn enough," Lessa said, though she wondered at herself. Had she overlooked the women of the Lower Caverns? She knew better than anyone how easy it was to become invisible while performing hard and necessary labor. "Manora speaks well of you. A girl with the skill to organise and manage a kitchen is an excellent choice to be in charge of a new Weyr."

The flush faded as her eyes widened. "In charge? Me?"

"Of course. You and Aideth will be the highest authority. No dragon will disobey a queen." That was too simple a story, particularly since at least a few older riders would need to be assigned to the Fort Weyr project, and they might require more effort to control. But let her know that it was her right, and she could rise to the challenge. "You should finish feeding her now. We must talk more later."

"Yes, Weyrwoman... Thank you!"

Lessa smiled and nodded and went on her way. And there, at the entrance to a formerly-empty weyr, she found Kylara.

Watching her.

Lessa stopped in her tracks.

Those full, pink lips crooked into a smile. "Disappointed?" Kylara asked.

"Why should I be?"

The blonde shrugged. "You spent your precious time instructing me in the care and feeding of a **gold** dragon."

"And her followers. It won't be wasted," Lessa said. "Are **you** disappointed?"

Again, that smile. "Not in the slightest."

"You would have ruled your own Weyr. That was what we had planned for you."

"But I would always have been second to **you** , wouldn't I?" Kylara stepped closer. "Benden's Weyrwoman. Even if there were a gold egg laid every Turn, as long as Ramoth lives, you'll be at the top. And that could be a very long time." She moved away again, leaning back against the rock wall, her posture lifting up her chest. "Now I'm something special. The only female bronze rider. And even if someday there are others, I will be the first - and the best."

She certainly was sure of herself, Lessa thought. How very like a bronze rider! "The other riders may not be happy about seeing you as their equal. You may lose some of your... partners."

Kylara tossed her hair. "I don't need a coward in my bed. If a man can't fight me, he doesn't deserve me. But there are many who take pleasure in a challenge." Her gaze swept up and down Lessa's body, and her smile turned wicked. "Not that you would know."

"What? You - what?" Lessa sputtered.

"Pleasure," Kylara purred. "Or so I've heard."

Lessa gaped like a packtail. Had - Had F'lar and Kylara discussed her **in bed?!?** How **dare** he!

"Though some find you quite charming when you're outraged, Weyrwoman," Kylara continued, tossing more coals onto Lessa's anger.

F'lar probably **did** find her appealing when she was angry, didn't he? That.. that ridiculous man! Laughing at her!

"And that is another benefit to riding a bronze," said Kylara. "Fair competition."

"What - what do you mean?" Lessa asked, her thoughts whirling like a dragon's eyes.

"You will always be Benden's Weyrwoman. But Benden's Weyrleader - **that** position can be **won.** "

This time the pulse of distress and confusion shot through Lessa with enough force that dragons on the heights roared in reflex. Even Kylara was rocked backwards, if only for a moment. 

_What is wrong?_

Lessa could not answer Ramoth clearly. 

_You are in pain?_

"No! I - " _No. I am very surprised. I am not harmed, dear one._ Drawing on her years of painful discipline, Lessa controlled herself. She focused her gaze on the woman in front of her, aware in this moment that Kylara was taller and stronger than she was, but certain that it did not matter. She, Lessa, was ruler here. "You cannot believe that. Pruveth's just Hatched - Ramoth's own hatchling!"

"It's not as if there's anything immoral in a dragon flying his dam, or clutching her sire," Kylara said.

Scorch it, her mind was too slippery to get ahold of! It was always easier to nudge people in the directions their passions led them - to turn an angry man to violence, or a hungry woman to gluttony. Kylara's smug, wicked goading could not be wiped away. Lessa chose to meet it with scorn instead. "Against Mnementh? Hath? Orth? Against every bronze dragon on Pern? Even when Pruveth has Turns enough to fly, he'll be completely outclassed."

"That's the challenge," Kylara said. "But I have an edge." She leaned in, close now, and breathed her words into Lessa's ear. "I know everything about a woman's body, and I intend to teach you pleasures you have never known."

...

_... ramoth?_

_They may try,_ Ramoth thought contentedly. _But they will have to catch us first._


End file.
